


falling upwards

by wlwchiaki



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dorks in Love, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, High School, Lesbian Character, Manga & Anime, POV First Person, School, Slow Burn, Teen Romance, Useless Lesbians, kaemugi, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wlwchiaki/pseuds/wlwchiaki
Summary: "I don't remember dying."When Kaede Akamatsu woke up after being virtually plugged into the killing game, she is awakened to a harsh reality where she isn't sure what's real or not, fears the piano, and is addicted to painkillers. When she agreed to do the game and act out the committee's script to ensure her a place in Hope's Peak Academy,  and to prove she is tough enough to live through something as terrifying as that, she had no clue it would lead to so much goddamn trauma.But there is something about trauma that makes it so much easier to bond with others. Specifically a geeky blue haired girl who is sneaking out of her dorm in the middle of the night to make Ramen.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Shirogane Tsumugi, Akamatsu Kaede/Shirogane Tsumugi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 21





	1. waking up

**Author's Note:**

> CW for suicide, slight body image, paranoia, drug use/abuse, and alcohol use/abuse. 
> 
> Hope you like! Please leave a comment :)

I don't remember dying.

My brain must have blocked out the last few hours of my execution, since it was so traumatic. Why was it so long...? Why were so many hours spent in pain...?

I don't remember waking up, either. I just sort of... appeared here, my senses blurred and numb. It's weirdly nice. No pain, no trauma, no suffocation. Just numbness.

"Kaede Akamatsu?" Something pierces through the veil, a voice. I don't remember how to talk.

"She's unresponsive still, Doctor." Another voice. Sight graces my eyes. My eyelids must have opened. There's a gasp. Two blurry figures hover in my line of sight, but I'm unable to distinguish any features.

"Decrease morphine levels by 30%, in 5% increments over the course of 4 hours. Be back then." The figure disappears from my view.

Time passes, and my vision slowly starts to focus. Pain registers on my neck. It's dull, but it makes me wish for the numbness again. I want to beg who I can now see is a nurse to increase whatever the doctor had said- morphine? Yes, morphine, but when I move my lips nothing comes out.

"Oh, please don't try to talk." He says, patting down the sheets anxiously.

"You suffered from vocal cord damage. If you're able to move your hands I can give you some paper and a pen?" I try to move my hands- they're twitchy and almost uncontrollable, but I can.

The nurse moves my bed into a sitting position and hands me the pen and pad of paper, explaining what he's doing as he's doing it. The dull pain in my back sharpens once I'm sitting up. I quickly scribble in messy, jagged handwriting- "More morphine."

"I can't, Doctor Takahashi's orders." White hot rage consumes me. I need it. I need it. My hands are around his throat. He's choking and sputtering. My arms feel heavy and tied down, but I just focus on squeezing as hard as I can. He hits a button, and I feel the numbness return to my body.

My vision goes dark again.

I fade back into consciousness, but this time I feel cold metal on my wrists.

"Hello Akamatsu-San, are you feeling alright?" It's Dr.Takahashi, if I remember correctly. I stare at her with wide eyes, scowling as hard as I can. The numbness is decreasing, I can feel it.

"I'll take off your restraints, but I will let you know if you attack me I won't give you more morphine." Damn. There goes my plan.

"Okay?" I nod. It hurts.

She undoes the constraints and hands me the paper and pen. I scribble something down- "Where am I?"

"You're in the University of Tokyo Hospital." Back in Japan?

"Shouldn't I be dead? I died." Dr.Takahashi smiles nervously.

"It's a long story. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" I nod.

She explains to me what happened.

The killing game I had been forced to participate in with my classmates wasn't real- it was a test conducted by The Steering Committee of Hope's Peak Academy. The death, the killing, it was all fake. My classmates and I had voluntarily chosen to be apart of the simulation after being guaranteed one thing.

After the simulation, we would be accepted into Hope's Peak Academy.

Confusion clouds my brain in a hazy cloud. It was fake... I'm alive...

"Kill me." I gasp out, tears coming to me eyes.

"Sorry?"

"Kill me!" I cry out, leaning forward and slumping into a ball.

"I don't deserve to live! I should be dead! I killed Rantaro, I'm a murderer!" I sob into my arms, which seem so pale and weak compared to how they were in the game- or the simulation I suppose.

"Akamatsu-San, it was a simulation, remember? Amami-San is quite alive and doing well, I promise you."

"I betrayed them! I betrayed them all!" My head feels like it's full of cotton. There's a scalpel on the small table by my bed. Before Dr.Takahashi can react, I plunge it as hard as I can into my chest. It doesn't go far, but I can tell it does some damage.

"Shit! Self-imposed laceration in room 007, increase morphine..." NO! No... oh god, just please let me die...

And everything goes dark again.

I wake up somewhere new. My head and chest are throbbing, and I feel exhausted even though I haven't moved in what feels like years. Cold metal burns against my wrists, and I know I'm tied down again.

People come and go in this new place. They ask me questions, which I don't answer. The pen and paper pad lay unused at my fingertips. They ask me if I'm okay. They ask me if I can speak. They ask my why I tried to kill myself. I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, which has blue fish painted on it. I like fish. Fish can die anytime they like. But nobody lets me die.

One day somebody new comes in. I can tell by their footsteps, but I don't look to see who it is.

"Kaede." No honorifics?

"You idiot. Are you just gonna lay here for the rest of time?" I let my eyes move the tiniest bit to see who it is.

Long dark hair, not in pigtails anymore, but instead hanging in a thick sheet. Hospital gown. IV bag connected to a much weaker arm than I remember. Red, glaring eyes. I blink away tears.

"Not gonna say anything?" She looks away. I don't have the strength to move my head, but I'm already stuck sitting up so I can see her well enough.

I shakily reach over to the pad and pen and write "Maki?"

"Yep, that's me."

"What are you doing?"

She sighs. "The doctors told me you were having, um, violent reactions since your brain has been traumatized or something like that. I was the only one not really connected to any of the events that happened. Well at least the only one fit enough to come I guess."

"Did you die?" I scribble. It takes her a second to read. My handwriting is atrocious.

"No. Me, Shuichi, and Himiko lived." As soon as she finishes her sentence her eyes widen.

"Crap, uh forget what I just said." Shuichi.

His hand reaching towards mine... his screaming as the noose tightens around my neck... My hands go straight to my throat, trying to rip off the rope. The piano is so loud it bursts my eardrums.

"HELP!! HELP!!" I scream. The doctors rush in and take Maki away, turning up my morphine again. I see a glimpse of her sad eyes as she goes.

More nothingness. More numbness. Finally, I'm back in the land where I can float around in the void for eternity.

But then it stops. Not slowly like before, but an abrupt stop that yanks me back into reality. My neck is painfully aching for relief, like someone is squeezing the life out of me, barely letting room for me to breathe. The small tube on my nose is pumping in air, but I long to feel relief in my throat.

Dr.Takahashi is standing at my bed with a clipboard.

"Time for some tough love Akamatsu-San. You have to put in a little effort to the therapists and psychologists coming in, or you don't get any relief." Something pops into my head, a nagging thought that had been lying dormant with the drugs. I write it down.

"The injuries? Well, since your brain thought they were real, it sent your body signals that it was getting hurt and sent pain receptors there. For the back and stomach injuries at least. As for your throat..." She trails off. I scowl at her.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you this, but..." She looks me up and down.

"Some patients, including yourself, had physical reactions to the events in the killing game, and reacted accordingly. It happened to a few others as well, but as for you you reached towards your throat and harmed it, while still unconscious. The sedatives given to you were fucking..." She clears her throat. I smile a little.

"They sucked. Goddamn Hope's Peak." She takes a second to breathe.

"I'm going to send in a psychologist now, if you promise to speak or write something, anything to them I will give you a small morphine dosage. Deal?" I give a weak thumbs up.

Over the next few weeks I have to write a lot. My hand cramps, but the morphine dulls everything- my throat and emotions included. A tablet is given to me to type, but something about my fingers moving across the keys triggers a flashback to my execution. I stick to writing.

I answer questions about the game- who were my friends? Everyone. I loved them all. What was your motive for killing Rantaro? I didn't mean to kill him. I meant to kill the mastermind...

A frequent question that comes up is "Why do you want to die?" and "Why didn't you use Monokuma's motive and survive with your classmates?" I answered simply.

"I deserve it. I made a mistake and betrayed everyone." They reassure me that it's not my fault, that I don't deserve death, it was the Hope's Peak committee's script and not mine. I know they're right, but my brain still is trying to convince me they're lying.

When I'm strong enough to walk again, I spend hours wandering the hospital. I have a tracker on my wrist, a clunky silver bracelet that tracks my location and vitals so that if I try and off myself the doctors and nurses will stop me.

Today I am in a closet. I'm wrapped up in hospital gowns, but I'm still cold. The dumb nasal cannula on my nose pumps in freezing air, you'd think it'd be straight from the arctic.

Someone walks in. Thinking it's a nurse, I inch my way to the back of the closet and scrunch into a ball. I don't want to leave yet.

Instead, it's a boy. Kokichi Ouma. My friend. 

“Woah.” He gasps, looking me up and down. I frown. He doesn’t look too good himself. He’s dangerously small, like he might break if I touch him. He has a morphine drip like me, but he’s also in a wheelchair.

“Yeah yeah spare me your thoughts.” It’s like he can read my mind. I start to slump into a fetal position. This is too much. He unclips the morphine drip and dangles it in front of me.

“Heard from a nurse you’re dependent. If you talk to me I’ll let you get mine.” I perk up. He definitely needs the morphine more than me, but my dosage is so low I don’t care. Snatching it from his hand, I put it in my forearm. Sweet relief will come soon and I exhale in anticipation.

Kokichi scoots his wheelchair in and shakily steps out of it. I raise my eyebrows.

“I’m not paralyzed.” He winces. “Can’t walk more than a couple steps, though.” He collapses across from me, leaning into the dusty closet wall. I hand him a couple extra hospital gowns, which he snuggles into.

“Ahhh. Nice hideout space.” I nod in an entranced state. His and my combined dosage is so high, I can barely keep my eyes open. It feels amazing.

“You said you would taaaalk.” He sings, twirling a bit of hair around his finger.

I point to my throat, which is covered up by a bandage. I was in a neck brace until a few days ago. He giggles.

“I asked your nurse and found out you can speak, and scream, but you haven’t in a while. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” His voice is energetic, but his eyes are tired and dead. Fine. I take a deep breath, ready to talk, but nothing comes out. I haven’t used my voice since Maki, and since I choked myself it had created additional damage.

“Ahhuhhh.” I say. It’s a mix between a groan and a sigh. He laughs, and my body does like a silent shake kind of thing. The amount of the opioid in my body is making me loopy. I’m just glad my vital tracker isn’t keeping tabs on my morphine levels.

“Try again!!” He says excitedly.

“Hhhnnnggg” We burst into our laughter-shaking combo for a few minutes. It feels good to be happy, or at least amused for a little bit.

Since it’s apparent I won’t be talking for a little while, Kokichi does instead. I’m in an opioid dreamland, while he just rambles on about this and that. The hospital food. The drama with the nurses and doctors. The different treatments he has to go to.

After a few days of this, he starts dipping into different topics, darker ones. The killing game. The other’s executions. He tells me the events of the games, and under the drugs I don’t get flashbacks when he mentions Shuichi. He recalls his death, how scared he was. How guilty he felt about Gonta, Miu, Shuichi... The list went on. He looks tired. A part of me thinks that maybe he’s just as suicidal as I am.

In speech therapy I do vocal exercises, and eventually speak simple sentences. I don’t talk outside of speech therapy, though. Every time I do it reminds me of my own screaming.

One day we meet in the closet, and after I’m hooked up to his drip, I surprise him.

“Kokichi.” I say. My voice is weak and hoarse, but it’s there. He looks up in surprise.

“Whaaat! DUDE! Nice.” We high five.

“Kokichi.” He tilts his head.

“How do you deal with the guilt?” I whisper. His eyes flicker.

“Guilt? I don’t feel guilty about anything.” If I didn’t know better, I would’ve believed him. However he told me right in this very room how awful he felt manipulating Gonta to kill Miu, and how he felt betraying Shuichi, and worst of all how he felt about his whole ordeal with Kaito and Maki. Maybe now that I’m not just a drug-addled space case he can rant to, he’s scared to talk.

“Please.” My voice cracks. He looks away.

“I don’t. I just let it sit in my mind like a stupid boulder. I want to talk to everyone, to Gonta, Miu, Shuichi, Maki, Kaito, Kirumi… But I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“You talked to me.”

“You’re different. You’re just a junkie” He laughs. He’s joking, but it strikes a nerve in me. I yank out the drip and storm out of the closet.

“Kaede, I’m sorry! That wasn’t true.” He sounds sincere.

“No. I’m not a junkie.” I whisper, but it sounds untrue even as I say it. My back is towards him, and I can see my reflection in the window overlooking the roof. Snarled blonde hair down to my waist. Pale skin. Eyebags etched into my face. I’m wearing a grey hoodie over my hospital gown, and I know just under the sleeves is pockmarked skin from clipping and unclipping the morphine needles without Takahashi’s permission.

“That’s all I am.” I cry. Hot tears are pouring down my face uncontrollably. I don’t even know who I am. Kaede Akamatsu is my name. Kokichi calls me junkie. I called myself the protagonist.

Who am I?


	2. rooftop

We sit like that for a while, with the sounds of my uncontrollable sobbing bouncing against the window pane and echoing into my own ears. Kokichi stands awkwardly at my shoulder, unknowing what course of action to take. He’s not used to seeing me make sound, I think. The Kaede who was drugged out in the closet isn’t the same one who he watches have a breakdown.

“Go ahead and cry cry cry…” Kokichi sings quietly. My breath catches in my throat, in between a sob and a laugh.

“What…?” He wheels up next to me and crawls onto the ground next to me.

“The Neighborhood.” He gestures, as if that explains it.

“I know-” I wipe my wet face with the sleeve of my hoodie, trying to stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks-”I know the song, but what?”

“Kaede, I’m the cool kid who doesn’t know how emotions work.” I snort so loudly Kokichi breaks and bursts into laughter. It’s weird, it’s hysterical, it’s gross, and I can’t stop.

“You are NOT the cool kid.” I choke out, pushing Kokichi lightly to the side. 

“I SO am.” We sit like that for a while, crying and laughing and just feeling. It’s nice.

That night I’m staring up at my ceiling with the fish on it. They’re eerie in the nighttime. When it’s light out, their little eyes look like polka dots on a slice of grapefruit. In the darkness it looks like mini black holes in a sea of blood. The inkwell test should really use these fish, I’d say they’re pretty telling.

I flip over on my bed, away from the fish, and try to stifle my thoughts with the paper thinness of the sheets. After what seems like hours of flipping back and forth in the stifling heat of the room, my thoughts fade into darkness.

I’m in a room with dark green walls. A golden pothos plant is placed in the corner of the room, and the tendrils of leaves are crawling towards me at an alarming rate. I stand in the corner and try to evade them, but they finally grab onto my hands and wrap around my wrists over and over and over again until my hands turn purple. 

I’m phased through the wall, the pink insulation stabbing into the pores of my face with precision. The wall ends with one last painful pull, and I’m seated at a piano.

“You love this.” The vines say. I can’t tell if they’re taunting or reminding me. My hands fight against the plant to reach my neck, attempting to pull away the cold metal I know is clamped around it.

“You killed me.” The ivory keys of the piano strike my hands with rigor, the notes sounding warped and unfamiliar.

“No…”

“You killed yourself.”

I wake up covered in sweat, with my sheets wrapped tightly around my neck and arms. I untangle myself from the fabric and throw it onto the floor. They land on the floor like a milky white puddle. 

“Fuck.” I kneel on the floor, the cold tile seeping into the sweatiness of my legs.

This room’s too much, so I open my door cautiously. There’s a person sitting outside my room in case I do anything dumb, but they’re fast asleep, phone still cradled in front of them. Tiptoeing as quietly as I can, I cross the hallway and go towards the stairwell.

When I get to the roof, the freezing cold air hits me like an electric shock. It’s the end of September, so I’m not surprised at the coolness of the air. 

In the dim moonlight I can see a figure sitting on the edge of the building, holding a cigarette with the tip lit up like a red star.

Moderate anxiety courses through me. I wipe my hands on my hoodie, trying to conceal my sweat and approach the figure.

They look up when I approach, and it’s light enough to where I can distinguish their features.

“Tsumugi?” I ask, squinting. Her glasses glare white in the reflection of Tokyo below us. She jumps slightly, facing me.

“Who…” Her face squishes up in concentration.

“Oh, Kaede. Hey.” She doesn’t smile, only takes a drag from her cigarette. I sit down a good distance away from her. She looks a bit stunned, and I have a feeling my expression mirrors her’s.

“Your hair,” I gesture into the awkwardness, “It looks nice.” Her blue hair is messy and wavy, cut just above her shoulders. Her black roots are coming in, but it honestly looks kinda cool, like the whenever you’re swimming deep into the ocean and you get to the point where the water is completely dark.

“Thanks.” She smiles wanly. 

Tsumugi is looking down at the streets below. I follow her line of sight. The streets are alive, even though it must be 3 in the morning. There’s a particularly loud couple walking past the hospital, their voices carrying up all the way to us. I notice she’s not quite looking at the street, but as if she’s looking at something in the air.

“See that mesh stuff?” She points. I squint and follow her finger, seeing black lines criss-crossing into a sort of net contraption. 

“Yeah.” It’s hard to see in the dark, but I can definitely make it out.

“It’s so if someone jumps, they’ll get caught in it.” I pause.

“Is that why you’re up here?” She hesitates. 

“I don’t know.” The girl faces me, and our eyes meet for the first time since the game. I think this is the first time I’ve looked into someone’s eyes since then at all. The cerulean contacts she wore are gone, replaced by dark brown irises. It’s a bit eerie. She looks like a different girl than the girl who ranted about cosplay and anime to me while we ate breakfast together. She looks different than the girl who sobbed the whole time during my execution.

“Is that why you’re here?” Tsumugi spins the question onto me.

“I don’t know either.” 

I don’t know what happened after I died, I only know about how Kokichi and Kaito made the plan to try and stop the killing game, but I have no clue what happened to her. It must be bad enough that she’s up here with me. 

“I wonder how strong that net is,” I speculate, half joking. Tsumugi lets out a breathy laugh.

“You wanna test it?” 

Yes. Yes I do. I still don’t know if I want to die or not, but my curiosity is overpoweringly strong. I don’t say any of this, but I figure we’re thinking the same thing.

Tsumugi holds out her hand to me. I hesitantly take it. Her hand is just as shaky as mine.

“Want to say goodbye to our miserably murderous existence?” She jokes. My heart catches in my throat, unable to speak. Is she really suggesting we jump into the net?

“Okay.” Anxiety rises in my throat, but I push it down and replace it with anticipation. Tsumugi falls forward, pulling me down with her. I scream for a split second as the falling sensation hits me. The cold air blows straight through my bones.  
The fraction of a second we are falling turns my stomach upside down, disorienting me. We land in the net together, our hands still clenching together like the snakes on Hermes’ caduceus. The black net’s ropes are thicker than I expected, cutting into my skin with an uncomfortable sharpness.

I burst out into laughter, my lungs barely registering that there is, in fact, enough air to breath. She laughs with me, a sick sort of sound to hear when one is caught in a suicide prevention net, but calming nontheless. I see a small white camera at the top of the net, but the red light is off. 

We laugh for a solid couple of minutes until my lungs start screaming for air and I have to resort in a breathy giggle.

“Tsumugi,” I pause, “How did we get here?” Our hands are still gripped together.

“We volunteered to go into a simulated killing game so we could get into Hope’s Peak.” She states plainly.

“I know, but how did we get HERE.” 

“We jumped together.” I laugh at her simplicity.

“Never mind.” My leg is jumping up and down, lightly shaking the whole net. I can’t really control it though, so we sit in the suicide net with our backs to the building, swinging back and forth like a porch swing.

“Why didn’t you take the chance to get out scot-free after killing Rantaro?” She asks suddenly. I glance over to her, but she’s not looking at me. We’re still gripping hands like a lifeline. Now this is something I know the answer to, and I haven’t told anyone my thoughts on it yet.

“I killed- er, in the simulation I killed him. I murdered someone, and he wasn’t even the mastermind.” I pause as Tsumugi’s hand grips on tighter to mine. It’s getting painful at this point.

“I killed someone. I didn’t deserve to leave.” Her hand is like a noose at this point.

“That- that kinda hurts Tsumugi.” My thoughts of her being completely different is reaffirmed as she looks me in the eyes, again, a deadly expression I can’t quite read. She pulls her hand away.

“You are a freaking idiot.” She deadpans, and I can’t help but fight back a smile.

“Did you just say… freaking?” I can’t quite tell in the dim light, but I swear Tsumugi looks embarrassed. She looks away and fidgets with her sweatpants.

“I may be pissed at you, but I’m polite enough not to swear.” Her hand finally releases from mine, but instead of feeling relief from the pain, I feel shaky and not as secure as I did. Part of me wants to reach over and grab her slightly sweaty hand with chipped black nail polish on them.

“You’re mad at me?” I say, confused. I killed Rantaro, not her.

She doesn’t say anything. She still isn’t looking at me.

I suspect if I prodded her for an explanation, I would be hit with more silence. Her anger towards me felt juvenile after she refused to swear, but the darkness behind her eyes I had seen is anything but. 

Light is starting to peek from behind the skyline, washing everything with a sickly grey cover. The concrete wall behind me is hurting my back, so I shift slightly, but the entire net moves as I do. I lose my balance and end up on my side, my face turned down to the ground. Nausea rises in me. I’m missing the stability of Tsumugi’s hand, so I grab it. 

She doesn’t pull away, only grips onto me hard. I have a feeling she needed it too, so we lay like that until someone finally checks the cameras and retrieves us using a crane. 

When I’m asked why I was laying down on the suicide net holding hands with Tsumugi Shirogane, I don’t answer. My therapist, Ms.Han, is nice enough not to press. Although, when she asks me my daily suicidal ideation questions and I shrug, she writes more than she usually does.

I’m on close watch for a week, where I spend the time watching dumb drama TV shows and wondering about Tsumugi and Kokichi. I kinda miss Kokichi’s closet rants and his dumb jokes. And ever since that night with Tsumugi, I can’t help but miss her mysteriousness. I miss that, and the bubbly girl I used to be friends with.

Not to mention since I’m closed off from everyone, including Kokichi, the morphine cravings are hitting me like a gun. My entire body is sweaty constantly, and no matter how much I reposition myself, I feel like I’m in a bath of hot oil. The only relief comes from lying face down on the floor, but then my ADHD kicks in and I have to move. 

On day seven, my withdrawals are getting worse and worse, my entire body shaking like a leaf. My week of suicide watch is over anyways, I might as well get out. 

I go over to Kokichi’s room. It’s late at night so he’s fast asleep, the morphine pump plugged into his twisted and bruised leg. It looks painful from my angle. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him. 

What the hell are you doing Kaede? You can’t just take precious pain medication from someone who actually needs it because you’re attached to the feeling it brings. Even as I think about it, I’m unclipping the needle from his leg and put it into the vein in my arm. I sit in the chair next to him.

After a little while, when I’m deep in the greys and yellows of dreamland, Kokichi stirs awake. I’m too high to move, but he doesn’t make a move towards me.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers after a while of us staring at each other. The fever that had been echoing deep into my head is gone now, replaced with calmness.

“You were lonely.” I exhale. My voice sounds disconnected from my body.

He carefully pulls the needle out my arm and reattaches itself to him. I resist the urge to grab his hand and put it back. I leave his room and walk around the halls in a dazed state, fiddling with my vitals bracelet until a nurse stops me and takes me back to my room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah young love. hope yall enjoyed!


	3. thin blanket

A week and a half passes. The nurses say we’re going to Hope’s Peak soon, but they make no further action than their words.

Stuck in the hospital where every corridor and every door looks exactly the same, I wander a lot. I go to the roof, where Tsumugi smokes and I take opioids I steal and we don’t talk. It’s a kind of ritual, where we don’t trust each other but are lonely enough to keep coming back.

In the meantime while my mental health is slowly getting better and the killing game is fading into the weeks behind us, I keep running towards the pain medicine. After that night with Kokichi, I don’t take it from him. I go to the trash cans and search for pill bottles that aren’t quite done yet. I slip and fall on purpose down the stairs so my ankle is throbbing. I’m not addicted or anything like that, but my throat hurts so fucking bad sometimes, I just can’t help it.

Apparent from the bags under my eyes, I believe Tsumugi thinks I’m just tired and not on something.

After a week of our hesitant companionship, Tsumugi says something.

“I miss going to cons.” I’m barely sober enough to comprehend words, but I lean back and look at her.

“Likeeee… anime cons?” My neck is really itchy for some reason.

“Yeah. Remember how I told you about that…” She starts to relive a memory, but trails off.

“I know it’s weird right now,” I’m able to string together, “But we can just act like the game never happened.” She looks at me.

“I don’t think we can.” There’s an awkward silence from her.

“But…” She continues.

“I was going to say remember when I told you about that con I went to where I accidentally broke a kid’s nose with a scepter I had as a prop?” I snort.

“Yeah! I do remember you telling me that.”

“It was funny because I was cosplaying Palutena, who’s supposed to be the Goddess of Light, and next I know this kid is crying on the ground with blood coming from his nose-” The bluette rambles on for a solid minute, deeply engrossed in her narrative.

I almost want to cry when I see the honey-golden light emit from her voice, her smile slowly dripping back onto her face as she rants about something she likes. It’s like seeing Tsumugi, the REAL Tsumugi again. I missed her.

She starts to fade away again, and I grab her shoulders on impulse.

“What?” The cold front that had become her norm since we were woken has returned.

“Nothing, sorry.” I return back to my spot on the edge of the building, silently wishing that old her would come back.

She talks more after that, and I start to join her.

A thin blanket of friendship sits beneath us, so thin I can still feel the rope from the suicide prevention net cutting into my thighs.

“I’m seriously craving grape soda right now.” I complain one night, where the sky is like a void from the light pollution of Tokyo.

It’s too overwhelming to look at, so I’m laying on my side, staring at Tsumugi’s hair. The way it’s dyed with several different shades of blue is mesmerising, and the more I look at it the more I want to compare it to an ocean.

“Grape soda?” Tsumugi asks. She’s staring up at the void of the sky, laying down next to me. Her glasses lay discarded at her side.

“Mhm. I would always have it at performances because it would give me a sugar rush.” I smile, remembering the sweet taste on my lips as I would fill the room with grinning faces.

“I would always drink plain black coffee at cons for the same reason.” Tsumugi laughs. She reaches her hands up to the sky in a stretch.

“Just plain black coffee?”

“Yep, it matches me.” It’s something I know she says often enough, but it still makes me sad whenever she says that.

“You’re not plain.” She doesn’t say anything.

Tsumugi puts her hands down, and one brushes my shirt on the way down. Her black nail polish has been completely chipped off.

I wish she was the one to paint my nails all those weeks ago.

The next day I’m in a fitful sleep when someone knocks on the door.

I stumble out of bed, my body feeling a thousand pounds. Untangling myself from the sheets takes a hot minute, but when I open the door, Maki is standing there. I haven’t seen her in a while.

“Are you going to group therapy?” She asks, inviting herself in and sitting on my bed. I sit next to her, tugging at the sheets.

“I don’t think I have a choice.” She nods. I notice she is missing her infinity hair clip.

“Where’s your hairclip?” Her face reddens, and she looks at her hands.

“Kaito has it.” She says simply. I fight a smile and give her a knowing look.

“Ready to go?” I nod.

“Can I ask you something?” We’re walking towards the tiled group room I’ve looked in but never stepped foot in. They intend us to all make up with each other and then ship us all back to Hope’s Peak.

“You just did.” Maki is even more passive aggressive than I remember. How is she the ultimate babysitter…?

“Ha ha. I wanted to ask... what Tsumugi did in the games.” She freezes midstep.

“Do you want to fucking die?” She growls, grabbing my collar. I cringe at the sudden touch, and the anxiety that spikes makes me wish I was high again.

“What-what??” I panic, grabbing her wrists as my face pales. Her crimson eyes narrow, deep seated anger not quite directed at me.

“It wasn’t a fucking game. It was a hellscape.”

“I-I know, but-”

“We were different people there. It doesn’t matter now.” I’m surprised by Maki’s sentiment. I had heard the same from my treatment team, I wasn’t expecting anyone, especially Maki, to embody it. She reluctantly puts me down onto the cold tile that seeps through my grippy socks.

I wonder if she truly does believe it, or if she just wants me to. I hope it’s the former. I can’t imagine the cold girl trying to make only me happy.

We step into the group room together. It’s a strange sight, seeing my friends who I haven’t seen in a month gathered into a circle. It’s tense, and awkward, and the air feels like it’s weighed down. I feel frozen at my spot at the door.

The group room is sunny, with glass stained windows letting in the mid afternoon light. There are sixteen red chairs arranged into a circle, and 15 of them are filled. I do a quick tally and realize Kokichi is missing. The guilt about the last time I saw Kokichi reawakens, and I feel my palms get sweaty again.

There’s an area in the room that doesn’t seem to be affected by the uncomfortable atmosphere. Keebo and Rantaro are messing around in the far left corner. Rantaro is trying to balance a marker on the tip of his nose, and Keebo is trying to blow it off at the same time.

It’s so random and disruptive of the mood of the room, I can’t help but laugh. Rantaro and I lock eyes, and he gives me a small smile. No ill-will in his pale green eyes, only a calm happiness. I apprehensively smile back.

“Rantaro…” I start, sitting in the chair on the other side of him.

“I am so, so-” Before I can finish, he interrupts.

“You don’t need to be.” I want to object, but instead I just give a small smile. If he wants to forgive, I’ll let him.

Then all I can see is the pink blood soaking through his hair, so I have to look away.

Tsumugi is sitting next to me on my left, her eyes wide open and staring at her grippy socks. She’s wearing her blue contacts again, and I find myself missing the realness of her brown ones. Her hands are clenching so tight together they’re white.

I put one of my hands on top of her’s. She sits there, unmoving for a second. She’s scared. I’m scared.

She quickly clasps hands with me, and we’re scooted together close enough that my oversized hoodie hides the fact we’re clutching onto each other for comfort.

Directly across from me is Maki sitting next to Kaito. Kaito’s wearing her hair clip. It’s adorable.

I look at each person in the room. Angie and Tenko are whispering quietly together. Shuichi is bouncing his leg and frantically looking around the room. He meets eyes with me. I wave with my free hand and give him a small smile. Now when I see Shuichi, I don’t think of my death, I think of the painfully shy boy who was my friend. He smiles and waves back.

Himiko is asleep, slumped over on her chair with her head on Tenko’s lap. Miu and Gonta are deep in conversation. Ryoma is slumped over in his chair, his cat-eared hat sticking up through his arms. Korekiyo and Kirumi are talking, both of their intellectual voices quiet.

The tension is slowly being sucked out of the room as I hear apologies, explanations, and forgiveness flooding the room. Not to mention the nonbinary goofballs next to me infecting the room with their happiness.

None of it affects Tsumugi, though. She still is just staring blankly at the ground. What the hell did she do to deserve this kind of isolation? The kind girl turned into an empty shell because of this stupid fucking game? Anger rises in me, and I feel compelled to stand up. I start to shift, but Tsumugi’s grip on me becomes tighter.

For the first time today she looks up and shakes her head.

“Tsumugi…” It’s starting to dawn on me the uncomfortableness surrounding her. I run through the math in my head. If Himiko, Maki, and Shuichi were the survivors, I killed Rantaro… Kokichi and Kaito killed each other, Keebo getting along with Rantaro, Gonta and Miu talking, Angie and Tenko....

I look at her.

“You’re…” She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry.”

My hand retreats from hers.

The thin blanket is ripped out from under me.

How could she sneak among us? How could she pretend like she cares so much about us while at the same time KNOWING we’re all going to die at her hands?

I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know what to think. God, I don’t even know what to do! My breaths are quickening, so I clasp my hands around my ears and try to focus on my breathing.

It’s her fault I died.

It’s her fault this all happened.

Every ounce wants to squirm away from the poison polluting the space by my side.

I just wait for the group to start, trying my best to avoid her.

The group is awkward and full of teary-eyed apologies. I feel as though my class is stuck at an impasse. On one hand, I want to move on and abandon the past, but I still feel like the past is plaguing me. While I’m only speaking for myself, several others express similar sentiments.

“Angie thinks we should just focus on the present!~” Angie sings, leaning forward in her chair.

“All the pain and turmoil is over now! We can move on and forgive each other, no?” Her words seem to be smothered in the depression of the room, but one face smiles.

“Yeah, Yonaga-San is right! My assistants and I really missed everyone and we can’t wait to be friends again!” Kaito jumps up, pulling both Maki and Shuichi with him. Maki nods sternly, and Shuichi gives a feeble thumbs up.

“Unfortunately for us, Himiko-chan,” Tenko gestures, starting to get in the mood, “The degenerates lived along with us. So Tenko thinks we should celebrate!” Himiko gives a small ‘nyeh’ as she is disgruntled from waking up, but agrees nonetheless.

The positivity affects the entire room, pulling almost everyone into a frenzied state of happiness because we are just all so happy to be alive, and we’re together, and everything’s okay.

Except the dart of sadness coming from the chair next to me.

And myself.

I stand up in my seat.

Tsumugi shifts next to me. The simple movement itself ticks me off, irrationally making my heart race with annoyance. 

I smile and socialize with my allies. 

They believe me. I'm their fearless leader after all.

But with Tsumugi's eyes burning into my back, I know she sees right through me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the truth is revealed! :0


End file.
